It's Times Like These
by x0x.RunnSmackkintoYouu.x0x
Summary: 14-year-old Miley Stewart always had a way with guys. Only...not the way you think. Because when Nick Louis comes around, baring every attribute to a freakin' GOD, Miley's got to re-evaluate every strategy she has. And she's got 192 hours to do it./ Niley
1. Adonis

Friday afternoon at the arcade. Brightsy, noisy, hungry. The sound of video games danced around me. I was home.

I adjusted by blue cap and peered my surrounding. Nachos? Check. Gamers? Check. Crying children and mustard drown corn-dogs? Awe Yeaa. Check.

"Yo, Miley!" Brent howled from Double O Five down the carpet.

"Aye!" I ran over and smashed him. My elbows had become the perfect substitute for my boobs. Shit starts to hurt after 13.

In fact, a lot of things started to hurt since high school. Not just my tits, but my jeans, and that ugly baby carryin', kidney-lookin' shit under my belly. Even—and let's keep this between us—the fact Amber and Ashley didn't wanna sit with me in Physics. They were my best friends. How could MAC and OPI change so much? They were bitches. Yes, that was it. They were bitches. They didn't _deserve _my friendship. Thank God for the guys.

"Yo! You want it or what?" Brent snapped my back to reality, holding a corn dog to my naked face.

I crossed my eyes to see at my nose. "Oh," I said. "Yeah, sure." I took the wood stick in my hand and took up on my toes, ripping huge a piece of the food off with teeth in the process.

"Yee-aah. That's my Miley." Brent kudo-ed, slapping my back. "Yeah. Eat that dog. Chomp it, Stewart." I started eating, enjoying his porn-talk. "Destroy it, bitch!"

I laughed, mouth wide open, pig meat falling from my lips. "Okay, okay." _Oh-hay, Ho-hay_.

Brent retracted and pulled out his phone. I stared.

Brent wasn't my boyfriend, but people surely thought so the way we hung out all the time. I just liked him and he just liked me. But not in the _Tee-he-he, I secretly like you-like you_ way, but the You're-Like-Family way. Besides, Brent wasn't boyfriend material. Too short, too big , too dangerous, and _not_ the brightest bulb in the box. He once beat a kid for asking Sadie Erts for a pencil. He ended up transferring and the only time I got to hang with him was after school.

"What's up?" I asked my friend, who was frowning at his phone screen.

"He should be here any minute." groaned Brent.

"Who?"

"My cousin."

"Oh,"

"Yeah," he said. "He's gonna be staying with me for a week."

"You like him?"

"Yeah, man, he's awesome."

I disregarded the _'man'. _"Cool," I said ripping another bite and 'destroying'. "I'm gonna go get some mustard." _Imma coh het hum ma-heard._

"'Kay."

I made my way to the counter and decided another corn dog could do me some good. Maybe I'd share with this cousin of Brent's. Wait. What if dude didn't like mustard?..._Ah, screw it._ Who doesn't anyway? Fucking pussy if he doesn't bite this shit with his molers first. He's Louis blood. "One corn dog, please."

"Yo, he's here." Brent remarked when I returned, the food already half-eaten. I should stop. He'd be hungry. I shot my arm out toward the coming dude to keep myself from finishing the sloppy thing. The really, _really_ sloppy thing. I wiped my mouth on the back of my cuff. _Manners first._

"Hey," he said.

Sweet. Baby. Jesus. The-the guy was an Adonis. Perfect tan skin, perfect dark but light eyes, perfect hair, perfect lips, perfect nose, perfect _head_, perfect...damn, what else is there?...Eyelashes. ?. Body? Oh yes, definitely body.

"Nick,"

Damn. Was I supposed to get this cornmealed dick out of his face? _Speak_! Wait! No! My mouth is full. _Swallow?_ Too much; not an option. _Uhhh...uhh...Uhhhhhhh..._

Nick looked disturbed and was moving his finger at my mouth. "Your-Your mouth is open."

"Huuh," I gasped and clasped it shut, swallowing a fraction of my body weight in one go. My throat burned . "Miley," I croaked. I went into a coughing fit and Brent reintroduced me.

"...she's a loser." was all I heard out of it. And he was done. I'm sure my name was said.

"A loser with a cute name." Nick stated and I immediately blushed at the sound.

I sniffed and stood up straight, looked around to see no paramedics waiting to embarrass me on the six o'clock news. "Your name's cute too," I blurted. Shit. "Brent."

Brent frowned hard. "...Um...thanks, Mi."

I cleared my throat to stop the awkwardness. "Well...um...I'm gonna go."

"You just got here."

"Yeah, yeah, I just remembered...uh, cal...cu...lus. Homework." I stammered. _Fucktard_.

"You don't _do _calculus homework."

Pointing at Brent but subconsciously looking at Nick I went, "Well I do now." and left.

...Nick. ...Nick. ...Nick. ...Nick. ...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...Nick...

You see where this is going.

All. Night. Long.

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><p><strong>AN: Hey y'all. Welcome to the new short story I'm writing. Not so great with comedy tbqh, so Review if you want.**


	2. Because I Know The Town Better Than Him

**Saturday: Hour 21**

"Okay. So what was that '_I'm gonna go do Calculus now'_ shit?"

I played stupid.

"Oh, don't fuck with me, Stewart." Brent said, closing his textbook...that he was using as a skateboard stunt prop.

"What?"

"You hate Nick or somethin'?"

"No," I shot. _Quite the contrary, my dear_. "I just embarrassed myself in front of him. I _choked_ on a corndog and said wiped mustard off my face, remember?"

"I told him you were loser." he said in defense, trying a smile.

I blinked, empty faced at him. "Dude,"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry." He fixed his Red Sox cap and squinted onto the May sun.

I thought of Nick during the walk home. I thought of Nick during supper. And at night, I _dreamt_ of him being a Greek God. And I was his goddess.

I woke up...and I was smiling. Stupidly. Very stupidly. Over a Louis.

Yuck!

But yum.

"Since when do you care about what people think anyway?" Brent brought me back, peeling a Fruit By The Foot with his teeth at the same time.

_How are they so different?_

I frowned. "What? ...You don't think I try to present myself nicely?" I asked quietly. I knew the answer, It wasn't all defensive, though, to be honest. I wanted his opinion. Did I ever _try_ to be feminine.

I straightened my Zelda tee.

He snorted and continued setting up his stunt course.

Well, that answered that.

Brent succeeded in his trick, picked the text back up and we headed to his house. He called Saturdays. I had Fridays.

I paused the door and Brent continued on about Carson Donovan, who had made the rugby team over him.

He unlocked the door and pushed him in, letting the door—in the aftermath—swing shut it my face.

I blinked. _That.. didn't feel too great. _

__Brent turned around when he realized he was talking to no one. We locked eyes at through the window and he gave me a look. 'Well, hello? Come in, Stewart.'

I sighed, pushed the 120lbs + door and entered. I heaved afterward.

"Geez, Miles, you failing gym?"

"Yup," I muttered. I was angry. I didn't care. I can bullshit. Although...I always opened my own door.

"Whatcha want?" He opened the fridge.

"Dr. Pepper,"

"Atta Mi!" he beamed and tossed a can my way. I caught.

I knew the right answers. We loved Doctor Pepper. Quality numero uno in our friendship: the same tastes in beverages.

Quality two: love of fingerless gloves and tuna sandwiches.

Three: the love of rugby, a sport we both sucked at.

And four...the lack of Daddy.

I sat down on a stool at the island and click-sst'd my drink. I felt happy now. Brent approved of me again. He soon was sitting next to me, a bag of nachos in his hands.

"Want some?"

"Don't mind if I do." I reached deep down into the full bag, searching for the biggest chip: something we always together. Nachos fell out of the bag like a nacho-fall and his mother would be fucking. pissed.

She would fume. "Brent! What did I tell you about the nachos! Damn it!"

"Sorry, Ma, sorry."

He would never rat me out.

"Charley! Here, boy!"

The dog would eat it up.

"I win." I declared, pulling out the biggest chip.

"Too bad I fucked ya over." He took an even bigger chip out of my pocket.

"Eff you, Brent Louis!"

"Don't hate tha player, Mi."

I squinted.

"Now pick all that shit off the floor."

Rolling my eyes, I climbed down. I crawled around the kitchen, picking up each nacho.

I came around the sink. Shoes.

Great.

"Need a hand?"

_God, kill me now._

I looked up at Nick. He had a smirk playing on his face. I submitted. "Please."

He bent to his knees and picked up the rest faster than I grabbed the three up my sleeve.

I blinked. _Damn_. "So, where is the little bastard?" I asked, getting up. I peered around and Brent was nowhere in sight.

"Went to get the Xbox." Nick answered. He stood as well. I looked at him, still peeved, and he laughed. "What? You made the mess."

"Because of him,"

"Touche, Miley."

I blushed at the sound. He remembered my name. It really _was_ cute.

_Stop that!_

"So," he popped, ready to change the subject. "You live here?...In Cambridge, I mean."

"Born and raised."

"Ahh,"

I smiled. I had something on him now at least. _I _knew the city.

"So...maybe you could show me the closest restaurant...You know, for my next stay."

I paused. What? "Are you...asking me out?"

"Possibly."

"Um..." _Don't faint_. "Umm..."

"Is that a Yeah?"

I blinked. _Back to Earth!_ "Yeah."

"Tomorrow."

"Okay,"

"Cool." He walked away, throwing the chips out on his way.

"Who wants Saints Row!" Brent called, marching in.

"Not meeeee!" Nick mocked.

There's another reason I like him.


	3. The Date

**Sunday: Hour 49**

_Don't do it, Miley. Don't do it. You're better than this._

I picked up my iPod, imaginarily lost in Nick's eyes and subconsciously watched the blue highlight on my iPod screen click and slide all the way down to S. I stared, frowned.

T.

Taylor Swift.

Today was a Fairytale.

The sweet intro began. I fucking cursed myself. Why oh why did she write such perfect songs of love?

I bowed my head, letting my stupid curls fall to my face and _**ordered**_ myself not to prance.

And I was prancing.

Damn it, I was 14! I hated Taylor Swift! She was stupid. With her stupid love songs and her stupid fairytale castle tour and that stupid dress that made her look stupid pretty.

Stupid.

I looked back up to the mirror and I scanned my skirt. Cute. My top, cute. My hair, decent. Annddd, my fa—

Yikes! Christ, who bred me? A raccoon and circus act?

"This can't do." I declared out loud and ran to bathroom. I scrubbed it all off my face and looked again. "Good enough."

I smiled my bestest smile and felt...pretty. Like a _girl_ almost. My mom would be so proud.

I went back to room all happy. We were gonna have fun tonight.

"Turn that shit off, Amy!" My brother shouted from the other room.

I froze. _Yeah...Amy._

I ran back and shut the door and feeling pretty and danced around with 2 minutes to spare till 7 o'clock.

I mean-What?

Before Enchanted started the doorbell rung. He was here! Brent gave him directions and he was here!

...Holy shit, he was _here_! At the house! The fucked up, poverty ridden orphan house! I hit pause and dashed down the stairs, jeopardizing my hair and barricaded the door before Mom could get to it.

"I'll get it." I huffed when she showed up.

She smirked, eyeing me down. "Yes you will."

Was my date that obvious? Was I _never_ pretty?

I felt her walking away and took a breath. He had to have heard the thudding.

_Okay, calm, cool._ I opened the door.

"Hi,"

Damn, he was dashing. He stood there in a grey tee and skinny jeans, his hair..._less_ quaffed.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, embarrassed but coating it with sass. "You said _I_ was taking _you_ out."

He looked sly. "No, Miley, I said you could show me the restaurant. We agreed this was a date and since _I_ asked _you_, I can show up at your place."

"This isn't _my _place..." I muttered and ushered him aside so I could leave. Didn't want him try'na look behind me.

- x.0.x -

"You know, when I said restaurant, I wasn't picturing an _Arby's_."

I rolled my eyes jokily. "Did you want to buy me Chicken Bonjour Flarmmayy?" I kid, with a mock-y French accent.

"Well," he laughed his beautiful Adonis laugh. "I have 45 bucks and I..._like_ you."

Blushing_...Wow._ I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile. "Keep your money."

"Okay."

We ordered food I could afford and shared a root beer, double-strawed. I was extra polite with my burping. And by that I mean swallowing them.

"Brent," Nick started, tapping on the floating straw. "Brent never told me you...had _another_ side."

My brows raised. I blinked. "Well, what _did_ he say?"

It was like he was afraid to say it."Nothing, really."

"Really?"

"Every time I asked he changed the subject. It's kinda why I asked you out. I wanna know you."

"Nothing at all?" I was shocked.

"Nope. Just that you were a loser."

"The bastard,"

"My thoughts exactly." he laughed, amused by my pissed face.

I spun my straw in the drink 4 or 50 times and then I asked the next question. "Where do you go to school?"

"Ertrade," he said. "It's quite gross."

"Yeah, I hear y'all have a rat problem."

"Not rats...particularly small possums."

Our food arrived.

"...Rats,"

He nodded. "I don't see you in any of Brent's school pictures..."

"I don't go to his school. He was expelled from mine."

"Sady?"

"Yes,"

"Really, how big were her boobs?"

"She has a hunchback."

"Where's yours?"

"My God," I went red in the face. "Aren't you just the hooker charmer."

"Well..." he shrugged.

_He's cute._ I side-eyed him as he unwrapped his sandwich. _Maybe too cute._

"So, uh, how many family members you got?" he asked.

"You first," I said.

"3 brothers, no sisters, 2 parents." he said. "22, 20, 12, and 45."

I nodded.

"You now."

"I don't know."

He looked at me. Dumbstruck.

"I'm adopted." I confessed. Damn, the first date and shit was Montel.

"Oh," he said. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"It's not. If my boob comment offended you—"

"If my birth mom had a huge rack so be it." I laughed the best I could, stuffing a fry in my mouth.

**Hour 52**

"They didn't!"

"They did!" I shouted.

Turns out I would spend the rest of our date telling little foster brother/sister stories.

"So what'd you do?"

"Well, the skunk was still pretty phased and..."

"Miley?"

I stopped walking.

He kissed me. Right on the lips.

Well, not _right_ on the lips, I mean he was walking next to me and it was kind of sideways, kinda on the cheek almost but a _kiss_. A boy willingly kissed me. Not on a dare, or a bet or a drunk madness spell. Nick Louis. My first, serious, kiss.

Our lips parted and stationed, making the perfect rom-com _"Mk"_ sound.

He looked at me. "I'm sorry,"

"Don't be."

"The porch thing is just-"

"Awkward—"

"Yeah."

"Glad you did it now."

"So am I."

We walked down my street and finally reached my house.

Oh, curse being the end neighbours!

"Well," Nick spoke. "goodnight, Mi."

"Goodnight to you, too."

I unlocked the door and pushed the door to enter.

"How was the _daaaaaaaatteeeee_?" I heard Amy giggle.

"It's late." I said.

"Did he kiss you?"

"It's _late_." I urged, pointing to the stairs. "Get upstairs."

The 10 year old sighed and slugged herself up the stairs. "I restarted Enchanted for you."

She disappeared at the top and I leaned on the coat rack. I was in love. "Thanks."

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><p><em>"Time slows down whenever you're aroundI can feel my heart/It's beating in my chest?"_

**I'm sorry, I love her but...Really? Of every verb you can use on a heart (racing, thudding, throbbing, swelling) she chooses BEATS! -suppresses laughter- IDK, maybe i dont get it. Maybe she as the princess is so distressed and broken her heart stopped or froze like some Snow White deal. I just don't know. xDD Jesus! LOL!**

**Sorry, this took so long. I've missed you and the Review button quite horny. *whispers* He's no good under a dry spell. :P**


	4. Mileyyy by The Temptations Reject

**A/N: This chapter is half a page. Lol.**

* * *

><p><strong>Hour 74 <strong>

Amber walked past my locker Monday "Miley Stewart is humming. 'Bout time you did something girly…"

I repeated her last statement, my mouth all mocky.

"Miles," Brent rolled up the hall on his skateboard.

"Dude! What are you doing! You're banned!" I exclaimed.

"Getting arrested is worth the risk. _We _need to _talk._"

"Wh—"

"**_Now_**!"

ITLT

"Look," Brent started, and he was on a serious note. This didn't happen. "I saw Nick, alone, in the dark, last night..."

"Dude, gross!"

"Not jacking, you pussy, listening to The Temptations."

_Oh. Oh, boy._ Nick told me he'd like to change the title lyrics to Miley…when we were on the phone…'till 4.

"He was singing _your _name. _Mi_ley."

I scoffed the best I could. Nervousness hit me. "_Whaaat_? Are you sure? Miley? Really? Naaww! Not me."

"Yes, you. And he's asked about you 100 times since you met. Weird stuff. Like where you live, what you like to eat, if you're _dating_. Mi, he likes you."

"Sure he does. Well, I'm gonna miss my bus." _I'm not lying._

"Bitch, you don't _take_ the bus."

_I'm not hiding anything. _"I do now."

Damn. Romeo's gotta be a better Romeo.


	5. Yeah We Made Out

**Hour 77**

"So he's onto us?"

"Like butter, Nick."

Nick and I met up in The Home's parking lot at sunset. Brent was at tutoring every Monday at this time.

"Well," Nick said, perched on a car. "What do you wanna do?"

He looked pretty hot on that random car like that. I had much trouble staying focused. "I don't think you wanna know what _I _wanna do." I giggled and moved closer. A few days I'd and become quite the skilled flirt. I was hot.

"I think we have the same the idea."

I approached my new boyfriend at that car and we kissed for the second time. Only, for the second time, it got really, _really_ heavy. Eyes shut, I felt his tongue pry into my mouth and while Miley 77 hours ago would'a slapped a bitch with the nerve, new Miley liked it a lot. His hands found his way to my hips and he slid us down on the car hood. I was immersed in his kiss, throwing my hands in his hair and touching around when…

"Is that your boyfriend!" Max yelled.

Max scared the shit out of Nick and he hit the car with his heel, setting the bells and whistles off.

The alarm was deafening and 6 year old Max scrambled away in fear. The pussy.

ITLT

My ESL instructor of a foster mom knew no better punishment than writing lines. Fortunately, since we were old enough _to_ kiss, we could alternate lines, so that was 12 lines and 4 words each.

_We will not be intimate on other's property._

_We will not be intimate on other's property._

_We will not be intimate on other's property._

By line four we were terribly bored and began doodling and scribbling notes in the margins. Made sure we didn't laugh too loud 'cause we were in dining room, 20 feet from my mom.

_We will not be intimate till we're married_

_Lolz. We will not be intimate till Jesus comes back_

_We will not be intimate till Brent knows about us._

_Whaaaaat? __ why you gotta play a dude like that? _He drew a sad face.

_Cuz we cant get caught. He'll kill us !_

_So when can we tell?_

_Thursday. Theres a dance and I'm asking u._ I sketched a rose and bowtie. Added a question mark. This would be my first dance. He had to say yes.

_Wow. K. sure. Then we can spend the weekend together._ He drew a heart.

_Perfect. _I drew a heart interlocked with his.

Neither of us dared to mention he was leaving that weekend. Neither of us remembered.


End file.
